


Be Mine

by endoftheline7



Series: A Werewolf's Guide to Courting [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Werewolf Courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheline7/pseuds/endoftheline7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in Beacon Hills, Stiles isn't exactly a stranger to weirdness. When he starts receiving strange, anonymous gifts, however, it gets a bit too weird. He has no idea who's leaving them, and even more importantly, why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine

In Stiles' opinion, most bad things tend to happen at night. All the final showdowns that the pack has with big bads are always at night, night is when Stiles always remembers he has homework due the next day, and you don't have to watch horror movies to know that supernatural creatures favour nighttime.

Stiles' mom had died at night.

Depressing memories aside, it's a good point, which constantly seems to be reinforced. So when Stiles gets home from the club, somewhere past midnight, to find a dead stag on his porch, he isn't surprised. Well, no, he _is_ surprised, of _course_ he's surprised, who wouldn't be? But he isn't surprised that something this fucked up has happened at night.

After Danny's recent break up with another boyfriend, the pack had decided to take him out to Jungle to cheer him up, and maybe help him score. By pack, Stiles means himself, the girls, and Jackson- who was only there because he's Danny's best friend. Isaac had dropped in briefly at one point, in skintight jeans and a top that had clung to his body in all the right places, because he felt like 'dancing'. It was definitely bullshit, Stiles had recognised it straight away, for another step in his plan to woo Allison. Stiles supposes it must be hard for Isaac to woo _two_ people, especially if they're both in different places.

Stiles isn't entirely sure about what Isaac, Allison and Scott's relationship would entail once they finally got together, considering that there's three of them, but he'd spent a few hours one night researching polyamory anyway- Scott is his best friend, and he has an obligation to understand his love life as much as possible.

Lydia had Jackson, Allison had Isaac, and Danny was being hit on by numerous hot guys, meaning that Stiles sat with Erica for most of the night- save for the one guy that he'd danced with. It isn't that Stiles is complaining, he actually really likes Erica, he enjoys talking to her, and getting drunk with her is definitely an experience he'd like to repeat. Although, he was the only one _actually_ getting drunk.

While Erica is great and all, she has a knack for being ridiculously secretive, and it's so _annoying_. She's like this _all the time_ , and tonight, all Stiles does is offhandedly mention Derek, saying that he hasn't seen him in while, which is true. Beacon Hills is unusually quiet with evil activity lately, meaning pack meetings are scarce, Stiles thinks that the last time he saw him was a few weeks ago. And Erica just _smirks_ , the corner of her lips curling upwards deviously.

"You'll probably be seeing a lot more of him soon enough," she says knowingly.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" He asks.

She just smirks at Stiles again, and gets up to dance with a girl who's been giving her the eye for the past ten minutes.

"Ugh, _fine_ , ignore me then. Don't lead her on, you've got a boyfriend remember!" He shouts after her, as she gives him the finger while strutting away. Stiles is only joking, and she knows it- Erica and Boyd are a pretty solid couple, which is impressive considering that they're abnormally attractive werewolf teenagers.

The pack soon decide to head home, and they all split into either Jackson or Erica's cars. Stiles notes that it's really helpful if you hang around with werewolves when you go out with the intention of getting drunk, it always leaves you with a designated driver. He ends up in Erica's car of course, and sits in the back with Allison, both their heads lolling on each other's shoulders with extreme intoxication. Isaac had left already, and Lydia and Danny gotten in the Porsche with Jackson.

When Erica pulls up at his house, she wrinkles her nose a little, and snorts.

"I can't believe he's actually doing this," she says to herself.

"What?" Stiles mumbles, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

"Don't worry. Night, Stiles- wait, have you got your key? Your dad isn't home."

"Yeah, he had to take the late shift tonight, I've got it," he replies.

"Okay, see you tomorrow," she says, smiling back at him as he opens the door.

"Tomorrow?"

"Pack movie night?"

"Oh- oh, yeah, my bad, I forgot," he realises, as he climbs out of the car.

"Why am I not surprised? Of _course_ you did," she snorts.

"Hey! Rude. Bye, Allison," he says, leaning back into the car slightly. Allison makes an affirmative noise, but doesn't open her eyes. Stiles smiles at the rush of affection he has for her as he shuts the car door, and waves goodbye to Erica through her now rolled down window. He can't resist the urge to stick his tongue out at her though, and she rolls her eyes and drives off.

He starts walking toward his door, when he sees a mangled and bloody animal lying on the step in a pool of it's own blood.

He covers a hand over his mouth and nose, blocking as much of the smell as possible as he comes closer, and sees that it's a stag. _Prongs_ , Stiles thinks with a sting of sympathy and sadness. He's never really been an animal lover, but he's never hated them either, and seeing a dead one mutilated on his porch isn't exactly a pleasant experience. Erica, _damn_ her, must have known- so why would she let him come out here and discover it for himself? Why is it even _there_? Somebody probably put it there, due to the fact that it's extremely unlikely for stags to die on people's porches after being torn to shreds. So, _who_? And more importantly, _why_? Has Stiles pissed anyone off recently?

Any questions while Stiles is in this state are too much, so he chooses to ponder them another time as he stares down at the dead creature, at a loss for what to do. He ends up calling his dad- this is weird behaviour, right? So it's kind of police work? He sits, leaning against the jeep for the next fifteen minutes, before his dad gets there, giving him a confused look.

"You know, when I got your call, I seriously thought it was a joke. Why is there a _dead deer_ in front of our door, Stiles?" 

" _I_ don't know! I just got home, wanting my bed, and this thing was just _lying_ there! I didn't know what to do!"

"Go inside, Stiles. Go to bed. I'll deal with this. Just be sure to ask the pack tomorrow if they have any idea of what's going on, they are _werewolves_ after all," his dad sighs.

"Thanks dad," he says, gingerly stepping over the stag to get to the door. "Night."

"Night, Stiles."

He doesn't realise how exhausted he actually is until he eventually collapses into bed, and feels massively better. He's asleep in minutes, and he vaguely remembers his last thought being along the lines of doing research about the strange deer.

 

* * *

 

Hangovers are the _worst_. He wakes up feeling like he's going to be sick with a pounding headache, as he rolls over on to his back, throwing an arm over his face to block the sunlight filtering in through his window. It must be Saturday, he realises belatedly, after noting that his alarm isn't going off.

"Nnnnggghh," he groans, the only sound his mouth is able to make.

After another half hour in bed, he drags himself downstairs, the clamouring of his empty stomach now too strong to ignore. His dad is sitting at the table, reading the paper and eating cereal. He gives Stiles a nod of acknowledgement as he pours out his own cereal into a bowl.

"So," his dad says, once Stiles is sat down with coffee and cereal. "Do you know what that deer was about last night?"

Stiles sighs. "No, dad. I have no idea. I'll ask the others if they know anything about it later, okay?"

"Okay. Are you going to Scott's?" His dad asks.

"Yeah, in about an hour. We'll drive to Derek's later, so I'll see you after that," he answers.

"Got it."

However, when he goes back into his room, he's greeted by a dead bird, sitting on his windowsill, wings askew. He shouts for his dad again, and he just looks completely baffled by it.

"What is going _on_?" His dad says, sighing, as they clean up the mess of feathers and blood on his windowsill.

"I honestly have no idea."

When he gets to Scott's later, they spend the day playing video games and studying. Scott laughs so hard that he falls off the bed when Stiles tells him about the deer and the bird.

"It's not funny! I was drunk and confused, it was really weird. And I was hungover the second time. Maybe I'm hallucinating? No, that can't be right, my dad saw them."

"It _is_ funny, Stiles. You had a _dead animals_ in your house. Why were they even _there_?" Scott questions.

"I have no idea. I'll talk to Derek about it, see if there's anything weird in town that would do that," he responds.

"What if he doesn't know?"

Stiles shrugs. "Dunno. I'll just tell my dad it probably wasn't supernatural, then."

Scott hums in reply.

A little while later, they both get in the jeep, and Stiles drives to Derek's. As he pulls into the parking lot, he sees that they're the first ones to arrive, which means he'll get the chance to speak to Derek properly about this weird dead animal thing. Scott bounds over to Isaac as soon as they enter the loft, giving Stiles Derek's full attention.

"So, um, can I ask you something?" Is the first thing he says.

Derek's eyebrows furrow. "Yes."

"Is there anything supernatural in town at the moment? Apart from you guys, I mean. Something that would, I dunno, kill animals and leave them in your house?"

"No, there's only werewolves in town right now."

"Ugh, then _what_ is going on? It's so _weird_. There was a dead stag on my porch last night, and a dead bird at my window this morning," he complains.

Derek looks contemplative. "Did you like them?" He asks.

" _What_? _No_. Ew. They were disgusting. And it made me feel bad."

"Oh," Derek says, frowning even more than he usually does.

"Any ideas as to what could be going on?"

"No," Derek replies, a thunderous but equally hurt expression on his face.

"Hey, that's okay. I'll figure it out. So what movies are we watching tonight?"

Derek doesn't answer him, just strides away and jogs up the stairs. Stiles frowns after him, but overall isn't completely confused. Derek is weird, but it isn't like Stiles doesn't already _know_ that, and feeling bewildered after interacting with Derek isn't exactly a new thing. Stiles has tried and failed, multiple times, to understand what the hell is going on in Derek's head- it never works out, so Stiles has given up by now. He sees Isaac and Scott glancing at Stiles and the ceiling, leaning in close to each other, snickering, and he sticks his finger up at them in return.

A few minutes later, Derek comes back down, with a strange but determined facial expression. He picks out a few movies, just as the pack begin to arrive, and a little while later, they're all comfortably settled in front of the TV. Isaac, Allison and Scott are curled up together on one of the sofas, which is disgustingly domestic, especially as they aren't even fully _together_ yet, Lydia and Jackson are huddled on the loveseat, and Erica and Boyd are stretched out, leaning against various different people's legs. Derek has wedged himself in between Stiles and Danny on the other sofa, so that his side is pressed against Stiles'. Again, Stiles isn't going to ask, he doesn't understand Derek, and he probably never will.

Most of the boys groan when they discover that all the movies Derek picked are _romances_. Jackson and Scott don't groan, however- Jackson has built up immunity to love films now, and Scott loves chick flicks anyway, because he's _Scott._

"Derek, _why_?" Danny exclaims, the distress evident in his tone.

Derek just shrugs as Lydia puts The Notebook into the DVD player.

Later on, Stiles notices Jackson _mouthing_ some of the lines. _God_. Stiles is glad he isn't in love with Lydia anymore, can you _imagine_. Lydia has such weird requirements for her boyfriends. He vaguely begins to feel the sense that somebody is watching him, and he turns his head to the side, to see Derek's eyes on him.

"What?" He whispers.

Derek just shakes his head, dismissing him, and turns back to face the screen.

 

* * *

 

He almost forgets about the dead animals. _Almost_.

It's hovering at the back of his mind for the next few days, but not far off entering the realm of things that don't really appear on his radar again. Sure, it was weird. But this is _Beacon Hills_. Except, on Wednesday, when he stumbles into his room, dirty and tired from lacrosse practice, it all comes rushing back to him. Sitting on his bed, is a bouquet of roses, next to a heart shaped chocolate box. A _bouquet of roses_. There's _chocolate_. It's not dead animals, quite the opposite actually, but it's on the same level of bizarreness, so Stiles connects the two.

Stiles, in a moment of blind panic, grabs his phone and dials Scott's number, begging him to come over _immediately_. Scott lets himself in a few minutes later, runs up the stairs, and flings open Stiles' bedroom door, to see him silently panicking on his desk chair, staring intensely at the objects on his bed.

"Stiles, Stiles, you sounded urgent on the phone, what are you- oh," Scott rambles breathlessly. "You- you called me over here for _this_? Stiles, I _ran_ here. I was worried about you!"

"I'm worried about me too, Scott! What _is_ this stuff?"

"It's flowers and chocolate."

" _Is_ it? Are you sure it isn't poison?"

"Yes, Stiles. I'm sure."

"Oh. Why are there flowers and chocolate on my bed?" He wonders.

Scott shrugs. "I don't know. Do you think it has something to do with the animals?"

"Maybe. Can you smell them? See who left them... Or something?" He asks hopefully.

" _Fine,_ " Scott sighs, slowly stalking over to the bed and skimming his fingers through the roses. He picks up the box of chocolates, which probably have the weaker smell, brings them forward to his nose, and inhales deeply.

Scott drops the box like it's on fire.

"Scott? _Scott_? What is it?" He questions, jumping up from the chair.

Scott looks nauseated and steps back from the bed, horrified. "I- it's... It's um. I. Wait... Just wait..." Stiles can practically see the cogs turning in his head and faintly overhears a "but _why_ would he?"

"Oh. _Oh_. My god," Scott stammers, suddenly understanding something, and really, _really_ looking like he's going to be sick now. Stiles is pretty sure he can actually see a green tinge to Scott's face.

" _What_?"

"I... Can't. I'm not _allowed_. I- I'm sorry, man. It's um... It's complicated," Scott explains.

" _What_ is?" He pleads, grabbing Scott's shoulders and lightly shaking him.

" _This_. It's... Oh god. I..." Scott says, shaking his head. "Who would've thought?"

Stiles whines in impatience, and has to physically restrain himself from stamping his foot like a toddler having a tantrum. "You _have_ to tell me Scott, I need to know if I should be fearing for my life."

Scott snorts incredulously. "You don't need to worry about that. Your life _definitely_ isn't in danger. Your virtue is though."

Stiles frowns.

Scott looks a little regretful. "I should go, Stiles. I'm sorry. But I can't tell you, I swear. Talk later?" He says, before basically running from the house.

"Wha- _Scott_!" Stiles wails, and this time he really _does_ stamp his foot.

He creeps over to the gifts on the bed, and cautiously opens the box of chocolates, glaring at them suspiciously. Scott had said they weren't poison, but he isn't entirely convinced that he's right. He picks up a truffle and inspects it dubiously, before placing it in his mouth. The flavour explodes over his tongue instantly, rich and warm, almost making him moan.

Okay, so _not_ poison then. Huh.

 

* * *

 

Scott protests adamantly when Stiles tells him about the pack bowling night that Lydia has organised- although, he has a sneaking suspicion that the bowling was actually Jackson's idea, seeing as he lives to torment and humiliate Scott as much as possible.

"Stiles, that means I'm going to embarrass myself in front of Allison _and_ Isaac!" He hisses, trying not to draw Harris' attention to them.

"Don't take it out on me, dude. You think I'm excited for this? It's just one massive triple date, with Derek, Danny and me as the awkward third wheels," he complains.

The pack seems to be doing so much _couple_ stuff lately. Or trio stuff, in Allison, Scott and Isaac's case. It's super annoying.

"Oh, come on, Stiles. The only third wheel that'll be there is Danny," Scott says, and rolls his eyes.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Before he has the time to try and understand however, he's interrupted by Harris.

"Mr Stilinski? Have something you'd like to share with the class?"

"Uh, no, sir," he mumbles, fiddling with his pen and keeping his eyes down.

"Good. Detention, Stilinski."

Stiles doesn't even try to object. He'll be late to bowling, but he doesn't want to get even _more_ detentions by pissing off Harris further. It isn't unexpected that he already has detention, but Harris is being so _mean_ lately, and he doesn't even know _why_. Wait, he does know why. It's because Harris is a _dick_.

When he gets to the bowling alley, everyone is already there, laughing as both Allison and Isaac stand behind Scott to try and coach him to throw the ball properly. Except Derek, who's sitting down, looking sullen, which isn't really a change if Stiles is honest. He _is_ wearing bowling shoes though, which is an amazing sight to behold, so Stiles snaps a few discreet pictures on his phone as he walks up to them. Danny is standing with his date, one of the guys from Jungle the other week, who he apparently must've wanted to bring along, meaning that Stiles and Derek will be stuck together for the rest of the evening.

"Hey Stiles!" Erica greets, as he sits down and waves in response to her.

As Derek notices he's arrived, his entire demeanour changes. He sits up a little straighter, face brightening and scowl shrinking.

"Stiles," he says in acknowledgement. "You're late."

"Yeah, didn't Scott tell you? Harris gave me detention, the douche. Honestly, I have no idea why the school hired a sadist as their chemistry teacher."

Derek snorts, and tries to cover it up with a cough, but Stiles hears, and grins widely at him with his eyebrows raised. Derek ignores his expression and carries on talking. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"Uh, he's always giving me a hard time. He hates me."

"Hm," Derek replies.

"Wow, that doesn't sound suspicious at _all_. What are you planning?"

Derek just grins at him.

Once it's his turn to go, he can't help but sigh dramatically. "I suck at bowling," he comments quietly, making Derek's head swivel to face him. It's not a _lie_ , not really. He _used_ to suck at bowling, but improved over the years. He hangs around with werewolves a lot nowadays, so keeping his heart steady while he twists the truth is kind of a specialty of his.

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Well- I... I don't mind," he says apathetically.

Of course he minds. That's the reason he's _doing_ this.

"Neither do I," says Derek, standing up.

"Okay, well... Thanks, I guess," he says with a smile, and grabs a ball, going to stand in front of the lane.

Derek sidles up behind him, one hand placed on his back, and the other on his arm. He hears Erica, Lydia and Danny wolf whistling and catcalling, and he just knows that Jackson is smirking, going through all the ways he can make fun of Stiles for this later. He's also pretty sure that Scott's probably trying not to throw up. As Derek coaches him through the arm motions, he feels himself grin and is extremely glad that Derek can't see his face right now. So what if he has a little crush on Derek? The guy is _really_ hot. A second later, Derek steps back from where he's curled over his back.

"Do you think you've got it now?"

Stiles spins around, face to face with Derek, much closer than he expected- their faces are only inches apart. "Yeah. Thanks, man."

It happens so fast that Stiles almost misses it, but it definitely happens. Derek's eyes flick down, glancing at Stiles' lips, before he steps further backwards with an uncomfortable cough. His stomach jolts, but he ignores it. Derek has pushed him against walls before, so their faces have been close loads of times, and he's pretty sure Derek has looked at his lips more than once. But sometimes you can't help it when you're that near to someone, Stiles realises, not letting himself indulge in the hope that Derek might be attracted to him. He turns back to the lane, and rolls the ball.

The rest of the night goes quickly, and Stiles even ends up getting a few strikes, but he doesn't win of course. Derek wins, which is a little unfair, considering that he's a werewolf who's in his twenties, competing against teenagers, some of whom are human. After this, they manage to persuade Derek to buy them beer, and begin to walk home.

Derek offers them a ride, and Erica and Boyd agree, and pile in the back of the Camaro, while Derek and Isaac lounge in the front. Derek gives him an expectant look, as if he's hoping he'll accept, but Stiles just waves him away, opting to walk home. Danny and his date walk in one direction, and Lydia and Jackson speed away in the Porsche, leaving Stiles, Scott and Allison to walk home together.

"So, Stiles," Allison begins. "You do remember that we've been bowling together before, right?"

Stiles does remember that. While he was the third wheel for the newly dating Scott and Allison, it's a day that will always remain a good memory- he recalls beating them both, and afterwards, they'd sat on a bench outside the alley, in the warm, glowing sun, licking their fingers as their ice cream dripped down their hands. Scott had gotten distracted by Allison's tongue, not registering a word anyone said, and Stiles had kicked him so hard that he jolted forward, his ice cream flying through the air and into a passerby's bag.

They'd laughed so hard that they cried. Stiles can't help but look forward to when Isaac takes Stiles' place in that scenario one day soon. He deserves that.

"You're _so_ not subtle, Argent," he says, shoving her playfully. "Get to the point."

"The point is, Stiles, that you do _not_ suck at bowling," Scott remarks, bringing his beer up to his lips as they carry on walking.

"Maybe I don't suck at bowling. I also don't suck at lying to alpha werewolves, though."

"No, you don't," Scott agrees.

Stiles wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Allison snorts beside him. She continues to snigger as they turn into Stiles' road and Stiles makes the mistake of looking her in the eyes. Maybe it's because they're both a little tipsy, but within the next few seconds, they're laughing, leaning against each other for support as they try to stay upright, clutching their sides. Scott just shakes his head in fond amusement.

He waves them both goodbye as he reaches his house, still weakly giggling, desperately making sure that he doesn't make eye contact with Allison, and descending them both into drunk and uncontrollable hysterics again.

Once he's stumbled into the shower, he jerks off, slow and languid, to the memory of Derek pressed against his back.

 

* * *

 

Chemistry on Monday morning is... different.

When he takes a seat next to Scott, he looks up to see Harris' eyes on him, calculating. Throughout the rest of the lesson, it's much the same, Harris just completely ignores him, and doesn't make any snide comments at all. The _least_ Stiles expected was a snipe, or a detention, a _something_. He hangs back once the lesson is over, and awkwardly stands by Harris' desk, shuffling his feet.

"Um... Sir, is everything... Alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be, Stilinski?" Harris says, frowning at him.

"You, um. You haven't given me detention? Or yelled at me," he replies.

Harris rolls his eyes. "Look, your boyfriend... _convinced_ me to be a little... _kinder_ to you," he explains.

"My _boyfriend_? I don't _have_ a boyfriend."

"Well, he certainly acted like that's what he was. Your _friend_ , then. _He_ convinced me."

"Friend? _Scott_?"

"No, it wasn't Mr _McCall_. You really think that I'd listen to a high school student's opinion on my teaching methods? Now, I don't mean to be _rude_ , Mr Stilinski, but i'm afraid I have some papers to grade," Harris hints, looking pointedly at the door.

"Oh- I... Okay," he says.

As he walks to his locker, he wonders who told Harris that he needed to act nicer toward Stiles. Who does he know that's both a guy, and out of high school? His dad? Wait, no, Harris had assumed it was his boyfriend. _Deaton_? That was unlikely. Chris Argent? Stiles feels a little flattered if that's true, Mr Argent isn't _that_ bad looking. It's obviously not Peter Hale, but there are a few young deputies that it possibly could've been, but it doesn't make sense for them to decide to do that all of a sudden. He supposes it might've been... Derek. _Derek_. Holy _shit_ , of course. He faintly remembers mentioning Harris to him at the bowling alley.

So at the next pack meeting, which is conveniently the next night, he corners Derek once it's over.

"Did you tell Harris to be nice to me?" He probes after Derek has just taken a swig of beer, hoping that it might coax a reaction out of him.

It doesn't.

Derek just calmly sets the beer on the table. "Yes."

" _Why_?" He questions.

"You said he was giving you a hard time. I made him stop," Derek answers, frowning.

"Yeah, but why did you do _that_?"

"We're pack," Derek states, as if it's obvious.

Stiles softens at this. "Yeah, okay. Thank you, by the way. I appreciate it."

"So, he _was_ nicer to you?" He queries.

"Yeah, he was. When I asked him about it, he said that you _convinced_ him. By convinced, did he mean that you scared the shit out of him?"

Derek grins.

"Yeah. He almost cried."

Stiles laughs the whole way home.

 

* * *

 

It's actually a full week before anything untoward happens again. He probably shouldn't have let himself fall into a false sense of security, he's part of an actual werewolf pack, and lives in Beacon Hills, after all.

He's innocently sitting in the library, preparing to study, but when he opens one of his textbooks, a few pieces of paper flutter out, onto the floor. He leans off his chair, picking them up and inspecting them. And _oh god_ , they're _comic book vouchers._ He'd almost find it creepy that somebody knows that this is the perfect gift for him, if he weren't so _psyched_. Added up, the vouchers result in about _eighty bucks_. He glances around the room, trying to spot anybody spying on him, but the room seems fairly oblivious of Stiles' excitement and confusion.

Technically, it doesn't mean that it's somebody in the room who's done this, he recalls leaving his window open and textbooks on his desk when he went down for dinner last night. It's also extremely worrying that Stiles sees somebody climbing through his window to leave him gifts as an option nowadays, but now that he's aware that the supernatural exists, anything is possible.

He tries to actually work during the rest of the day, but it's seemingly unpreventable, and he sits there, high with impatience and anticipation, so eventually Isaac actually takes him aside and asks him what's going on. When he shows Isaac the vouchers, he has to try not to squeal.

"And you just found them in your textbook? Randomly?"

"Yeah, it's so _weird_ , right? Still, I'm not throwing them away. Ever. I don't care how I got them."

Isaac looks at the papers in his hand suspiciously. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "Are you going tonight? Can I... Come with you?" He asks hopefully.

"I didn't know you liked comics, man. Of course," Stiles grins.

"I dunno, I mean, I've always loved The Hulk, what can I say?"

Stiles snorts and throws an arm over his shoulder. "More of a Captain America fan, myself."

They meet up later in the parking lot, and Stiles drives them to the comic store. For the next few hours, they barely move, apart from to grab another comic, choosing which ones Stiles should buy and which ones he shouldn't. He uses at least half of the vouchers, saving the remaining ones for another time. Stiles realises he actually quite enjoys spending time with Isaac, especially when they have something to bond over. And argue over- they had spent _ages_ debating who the best Marvel villain was, which was _obviously_ Loki, not _Magneto_.

It's already dark by the time Stiles drops Isaac off at the loft, and the atmosphere is strangely tense, like they're both waiting for something to happen.

"Do you want to come in?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay," Isaac looks strangely disappointed. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," he says, undoing his seatbelt and reaching for the car door.

"Wait," Stiles says, placing a hand on Isaac's arm to still him, and Isaac turns to face him, looking expectant. "I need to talk to you about Scott."

The strain in the air suddenly fades away, and Isaac lets out a breath he seems to have been holding.

"I just... I've already had this conversation with Allison, I talked to her when they first started dating, but, I get it, now. The thing with all three of you, I get it. Kind of. I know that you guys are all... Romantic," he falters. "And I like you, I really do. I consider you my friend. But I just need you to know that if you break his heart, I'll kick your ass. I need you to know that."

Isaac smiles widely, his eyes crinkling, and there's a pause before he figures out how to reply. "You know, I'm a werewolf, and you could probably never beat me in a fight. But I actually believe you."

"Good," Stiles says, beaming back at him. "Now get out of my car, I have some comics to read."

Isaac's laugh is soft and shy as he gets out of the car, and it's completely muffled once he shuts the door. As Stiles drives away, he remembers how timid and withdrawn Isaac used to be, which is presumably why his laugh is the way it is.

He supposes that if he had to pick another person good enough for Scott besides Allison, Isaac would be it.

 

* * *

 

Not long after the incident with the comic book vouchers, Stiles gets home to find a batch of freshly baked cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter. He pokes at one, pulling it open, to check for chocolate chips. Tragically, there aren't any, but Stiles starts eating one anyway. He's halfway through his third one when his dad calls.

"Hey dad," he says, mouth still full.

"Stiles, don't talk while you're eating. I was just calling to let you know I'm gonna be a bit late tonight, okay?"

"Sure, okay. Thanks for the cupcakes."

"The cupcakes? What cupcakes?"

"The ones that you baked. They were on the counter when I came in, they're really good, even though there aren't any chocolate chips."

"Stiles, I didn't bake any cupcakes."

"But..." He protests, confused.

"There aren't any cupcakes. Please don't tell me I have to arrest my son for recreational drug use," his dad pleads.

"No- I... No. It was a joke. Ha!" He backtracks.

"Stiles wha-" Is all his dad manages to say before Stiles hangs up.

He releases his grip on the half-eaten cupcake, watching it fall to the table, before dropping his head into his hands. What the _hell_. Is somebody breaking into his house and baking for him? Leaving him dead animals, and then switching to romantic things like roses and chocolates? Stiles is so unbelievably _lost_ that he doesn't even know where to _start_.

He decides to call Scott, but there isn't an answer. Huh. He dials Allison next, but she doesn't pick up either. Stiles is beginning to wonder about what's going on there, and if the fact that neither of them answering is connected. To confirm his theory, he calls Isaac, and when there's no response, he jumps up from the table in joy. _Finally_. They _better_ be getting it on, _Jesus_.

He hovers uncertainly over a few contacts in his phone, before settling on Lydia. He doesn't know _why_ he decides on her, for the life of him, but she picks up after only a few rings.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah, hey Lydia. Um." There's a stilted halt in the conversation where Stiles has no idea what to say, before Lydia huffs in annoyance.

"Did you want to say something?"

A half hour later, after explaining everything to her, she's standing in his kitchen, prodding at the leftover cupcakes.

"So somebody just left them here? For you to eat? Are they safe?" Lydia grills.

"Let's hope they are, because I've already eaten three."

" _Stiles_!" Lydia berates, crossing her arms.

"What? I thought my dad made them!" He defends.

She sighs in frustration. "Why did you call _me_? I can't really help with this kind of thing. We're friends with other people who can literally sniff this stuff out."

"Yeah well, I'm pretty sure Scott, Isaac and Allison are finally doing something about their mutual crushes on each other. It's Erica and Boyd's date night, too. I don't _want_ Erica to kill me, Lydia. And Jackson is never really an option for this stuff," he explains.

"Derek?" Lydia suggests.

"What _about_ Derek?"

"You could've called him."

"Yeah, _right_. Funny," he snorts.

Lydia looks at him quizzically. "Do you really think that Derek wouldn't help?"

"I dunno... I mean, he's probably busy anyway," he guesses.

"Yeah, like _that_ would stop him from helping," Lydia snarks.

Stiles frowns, and is about to ask what she means before she grabs the plate of cakes and pulls him by his wrist all of a sudden, dragging him out of the house.

"We're going to Deaton. If these are poisoned then we need to check," Lydia says.

They're not poisoned.

Deaton gets a chunk of one, holds it up to the light and gives Stiles a look, that he supposes is meant to say that Stiles is an idiot. Deaton tells them that they're just cupcakes, and asks them to leave because they're taking up too much of his time by requesting that he check on ridiculous things, seeing as he has an _actual_ job he needs to do.

It makes Stiles feel kind of bad, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?

 

* * *

 

Stiles has had _enough_.

He's just gotten back from the grocery store with his dad, and he spent the whole time reprimanding him about what he eats. He's not entirely certain himself about what his dad _should_ be eating, but he knows it isn't _bacon_. Grumbling under his breath, he throws his door open, and flops onto his bed. There, however, he comes face to face with a piece of paper, looking like it'd been haphazardly torn out of a notebook. He squints at it, and picks it up warily, reading it. It's a list of _food_.

No, not just any food. Foods low in cholesterol and fat.

Stiles scrambles backwards in shock, falling off the bed and onto his back. Was somebody _stalking_ him? Were they at the grocery store listening to him chastising his dad? While the gesture is _nice_ , it's also incredibly creepy. He seriously considers the possibility of Peter Hale doing it, seeing as creepy and Peter go hand in hand, but the intentions behind it seem too good. He's just sitting up from the floor when Derek appears at his window.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Just... Exercise."

Derek raises an eyebrow.

"Look, I was just... Freaked out. I fell," he admits.

"That sounds far more likely," Derek snorts.

"Rude," Stiles mutters, pulling himself up onto the bed and frowning at the paper.

"What's that?" Derek says, before climbing in fully through the window, from the crouched position he was in. He perches on the windowsill, his legs stretched out, and nods at the page in Stiles' hand.

"It's... A list. Of recommendations. For foods my dad should eat. I just found it here on my pillow when we got back from grocery shopping," he answers.

"Oh," Derek says, his voice a little high, shifting, looking uncomfortable.

"That's why I was freaked out. Who _does_ that? Eavesdrops on people when they're talking to their fathers, and comes into their room and leaves them stuff? It's _creepy_. I think I'm being stalked."

"I doubt you're being _stalked_ ," Derek snaps irritably.

There's an uneasy silence after this, and Derek looks mortified. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck, his cheeks pink.

"I just... I mean, maybe I- ... _somebody_ overheard, by chance, and decided to help you out."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm not denying that it's nice, you know? Because I appreciate it, I really do. I'm totally clueless about my dad's diet. But I'm a little... Confused. This isn't the first time this has happened- I've been getting loads of random gifts over the past couple of weeks, and I just... I'm just really out of my depth right now."

"I'm sure you'll understand soon," Derek says, and it's unusually soft.

"I hope so."

Derek gives him a smile in return, and stands up. Before Stiles can say anything else, he's already gone. He blinks, still surprised by the speed of werewolves, even to this day.

It's not until later that night that Stiles realises that he didn't explain why he was there in the first place.

 

* * *

 

After a delightfully pleasant chemistry lesson, due to Harris' diminished torment of him, he practically skips to his locker to put away his books. On opening it though, he sees that something is amiss.

Sitting amongst his books, is a teddy bear holding a heart, with the words 'Be Mine' inscribed on it.

Stiles groans, banging his head against his open locker door.

"You okay there Stiles?" He hears Danny ask as he walks past.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, pulling his head back to see Jackson and Danny.

Danny pats his arm comfortingly and carries on walking, but Jackson stays put.

"What's up Stilinski?" He asks.

"Why do _you_ care?" Stiles says suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

Jackson just sighs, shaking his head, and pulls his locker door open further, so he has a view of the bear. He starts howling with laughter as soon as he sees it, but Stiles can't find that as anything but predictable. He tuts in exasperation as he waits for Jackson to stop, leaning against the row of lockers. After literally two straight minutes of constant laughter, Jackson finally slows down, wiping his eyes.

"You done?" Stiles snipes.

"Yeah, I think so," he says, breathless.

"Is it really that funny that someone might actually be interested in me?"

"I wasn't laughing at _that_."

"Then what _were_ you laughing at?"

"Just... Just his _attempts_. Man, I'm so _embarrassed_ for him," Jackson says, still looking wildly amused.

"You aren't making any sense, what are you _talking_ about?"

"Wait, you don't _know_?" Jackson asks incredulously.

"Know _what_?"

"I- I can't believe you don't _know_ yet, Stiles. It's... probably not that obvious to you. Huh."

"Are you going to tell me what you're ta- oh," he starts, but Jackson has already strode off down the corridor. "Fine, bye. Great talk!" He shouts sarcastically.

At the end of the day, he grabs the teddy and stuffs it in his bag as quick as possible, hoping that nobody sees. When he gets home, he snatches a couple of textbooks, and heads over to Allison's to study. Once he arrives and they're both seated on her bed, with the books spread out, he complains to her, in great detail, flailing arms and all, about the strange things happening to him. He's just gotten to the part about the list when Chris Argent interrupts.

"I thought you were supposed to be studying," he says jokingly, arms crossed.

Chris Argent is much better now, Stiles thinks. While he's still kind of a dick, without the influence of Gerard, Kate or Victoria, he's actually kind of decent. Well, as decent as a hunter with a daughter in a werewolf pack can be.

"Yeah, we will in a minute dad. Stiles was just telling me about the weird gifts he's getting," Allison replies.

"What gifts?" He asks, frowning.

So Stiles explains all of the strange things he's been receiving recently to him, and the thoughtful expression on his face gets increasingly stronger the more Stiles talks.

"I think I know what's going on here," Mr Argent says.

"What?"

"You're being courted," he explains.

"I'm being... _What_? _Courted_? Who even does that stuff anymore?"

"Well considering that it's an old werewolf tradition that's taught to born werewolves, i'm guessing that _Derek_ still does that stuff. Technically, nobody else is really allowed to tell you, but I'm not pack, so I don't think it counts."

"Wait... Derek?" He says in disbelief.

"Derek is courting you, Stiles."

And then the whole world turns upside down. Children are screaming, women are crying, people are hurling themselves off buildings shouting "This is the end!" Graffiti is being sprayed on walls, 'Save yourselves' it says. The world is ending, very similarly to a zombie apocalypse, because _Derek Hale_ is courting _Stiles Stilinski_. Derek Hale, ex-murder suspect, the guy who hates him, pushes him against walls, and generally despises anything associated with Stiles. Okay, so the ex-murder suspect thing is Stiles' fault but _still_. Derek Hale, who wears black leather, drives a Camaro and is the most dangerous and scary guy in Beacon Hills.

_Derek Hale._

Derek is _courting_ him.

He comes back to himself to see Allison waving her hand over his face.

"You kinda spaced out there, Stiles. Are you okay?"

"I- I... I don't..."

"Dad, I think he's in shock," Allison says.

"No, no I'm fine. I just... Why would he _do_ that? Is it a joke?" He questions.

Allison outright laughs and her dad looks at him like he's a complete idiot, shaking his head. "Believe me Stiles, it isn't a joke," he says.

"I... I had no idea that he was _into_ me..." He trails off.

"What are you gonna do now?" Allison asks, after the pause has lasted too long.

"I don't know. What did you do about Scott and Isaac?"

"Scott _and_ Isaac?" Her dad suddenly interjects.

Allison's eyes go wide and scared, and Stiles winces and mouths an apology to her. "Allison, can I see you in my office please?" He requests, turning and leaving the room. Allison hangs her head guiltily and follows suit.

"TWO WEREWOLVES?" He hears shouted half a minute later. Stiles would laugh if he weren't so shocked, he's still not over the fact that he's being _courted_. By Derek. He's lying face down on Allison's bed, arms splayed by his side, groaning in panic, when she returns.

"Oh Stiles," she says, giggling and coming to sit next to him, crossing her legs.

"What do I _do_? Allison, tell me what to do," he begs.

"You need to talk to him. Go to the loft, I can study on my own."

"No! _No_. I don't think I can ever look him in the eye again, I'm not going to see him," he argues.

"I thought you liked him? Like, _like_ liked him."

Stiles sighs. "I do, but... I don't know how to _act_ around him now. How do I talk to him without jumping him?"

"Maybe you should jump him first, and then do the talking," Allison suggests, smirking suggestively at him. "Come on, you'll have to see him eventually. You might as well get this conversation with him over and done with now."

"Okay," Stiles sighs in resignation. When he stands up from the bed, she rises too, and pulls him into a tight hug.

"Good luck," she whispers in his ear, then pulls out a drawer in her dresser, and picks something up. She slips it into his pocket and gives him a wink. He frowns and says goodbye, letting himself out. When he checks what it is, he sees that it's a condom.

_Thanks for the condom_

He texts her, and his phone buzzes with a reply within seconds.

_Always use protection ;)_

Stiles rolls his eyes and gets into the jeep.

 

* * *

 

Stiles bites back a grin as he stands in front of the door to the loft, practically vibrating with nervousness and excitement. He lifts up his hand to knock, but the door is opened before he can.

"Stiles," Derek says, breathless, like he'd run to the door.

"How did you know I was here? I was just about to knock, dude."

"I heard your heartbeat. I'm a werewolf, remember."

Stiles frowns. "How did you know it was _my_ heartbeat?"

"I- there was your scent, too," Derek amends, the tips of his ears going red.

Oh  _god_ , Derek is attuned to his heartbeat. Now that he's aware of how Derek feels, it's impossible to ignore. It's actually really _obvious_. How did he not notice?

"Do you, um, do you want to come in?" Derek asks, almost tripping over his feet with eagerness as he moves aside. "Isaac is out with Boyd somewhere."

"Sure," he agrees, looking Derek in the eyes as he smiles at him. Derek's face softens, looking fond as he shyly smiles back.

"Do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Yeah, okay," he says. "What've you got?"

Derek gestures to the small shelf of DVDs. He picks out a random one, barely glancing at the cover before presenting it to Derek.

"Isaac keeps trying to get me to watch that," he comments.

"Good for Isaac. We're watching it, come on," he prompts, putting the DVD in and flopping down on the sofa, beckoning to Derek. He considers sitting on the loveseat for a second, but doesn't feel bold enough to actually do it. Derek comes over and sits next to him, probably closer than necessary, so that Stiles can feel the heat radiating from his thigh, and he feels a stab of anticipation at this.

For the next hour, Stiles sits there, trying to ignore his hyper-awareness of Derek next to him. He can't help but look at him in the corner of his eye, and Derek seems to be in the same kind of predicament, shifting restlessly, and if Stiles listens hard, his breathing seems to be laboured. He notices Derek glancing at him once every few minutes, eyes flicking across his profile. It makes him feel a little smug that he has the power to make _Derek Hale_ act like a twelve year old girl with a crush. After the nineteenth glance, and _yes_ , Stiles had counted, he's had enough. With a sigh, he grabs the remote and pauses the movie, pulling his legs up and crossing them, and turning to face Derek. He swallows, looking for the words to use as Derek copies his position and gazes at him enquiringly.

"Are you courting me?"

Derek splutters, cheeks going bright red.

"I... Um... Yeah," he eventually says, sighing in defeat. "Sorry."

"Hey, I'm not asking for an apology. Why didn't you just _tell_ me how you felt though? Why go to the trouble of all the gifts?"

"I'm no _good_ with words," Derek huffs. "And my mom always told me that if I wanted to woo someone then I had to court them properly. I think it's a werewolf thing."

"I can't believe you were _wooing_ me. I had no idea!"

"Do you still think it's creepy?" Derek pouts.

"No," Stiles snorts. "It was creepy when I thought it was some random stranger. But it was only you."

Derek looks as if he doesn't know whether to be pleased or offended, and Stiles realises something. "Oh my god, Scott totally _knew_ , I hate him. Did _everyone_ know?"

Derek's lips quirk. "Not everyone. Erica and Boyd knew before I'd even _started,_ andScott and Jackson figured it out later. That was it, I think. Although I'm pretty sure they all knew how I felt about you."

"Yeah, well I'm not surprised about _that_ , you're totally obvious. I don't know how I didn't see it," Stiles says, and Derek glowers at him. "Wait, how did Erica and Boyd know _before_?"

The fading pink tinge to Derek's face darkens. "Um, they saw the list I was making. Of ideas. On how to woo you."

"You made a list of _ideas_?" Stiles squeaks gleefully.

"Shut up, Stiles," He grumbles.

"Make me," Stiles challenges.

And he does.

He leans forward slowly, gently nudging Stiles' lips with his own. Stiles is blindsided by how sincere and _sweet_ it is, and gasps into his mouth. Derek makes a satisfied noise in reply, and Stiles drags him closer, pressing their chests together. He wants to do so many things at once, wants to fulfil every one of his fantasies, and decides on just fastening his hands in Derek's hair and _tugging_.

Something snaps inside Derek at this, and he lunges forward, pressing him back onto the sofa, sucking and biting at his lips. Stiles responds with equal enthusiasm, knotting his hands into the back of Derek's t-shirt, throwing his legs around him and moaning loudly. He pants harshly and digs his fingers tighter into the material when Derek's burning hot hand encloses on his bare waist, where his top has ridden up. Stiles is aware that he's hard, so incredibly hard, throbbing inside the confines of his jeans, but when Derek grinds his hips down, he can't help but feel shocked. He can feel Derek's _dick_.

"Mmmm, Stiles," Derek moans, moving against his thigh. "Want you. So much," he rasps.

"You've got me," he breathes out.

Derek groans louder at this, fingers scrabbling for purchase at his waist and ducking his head against his neck, sucking hot kisses there. Stiles slips his hands down further, hooking his fingers into Derek's belt loops and pulling him tighter against him. He doesn't quite have the courage to let his hands venture down further yet, but Derek doesn't seem to mind, jerking his hips forward and whimpering.

" _Stiles_ -" Derek whines, before they're both interrupted by the slamming of the loft door.

They spring apart, jumping to separate sides of the couch and simultaneously grabbing cushions to hide their crotches. Stiles is about to comment on how that makes it even _more_ obvious of what they were doing, but he hears an exasperated sigh from the doorway.

"Look, I know you guys were probably about to fuck for the first time, and I'm sorry for interrupting, but I got back from the movies with Boyd a half hour ago, and I've been standing in the rain for half of that time. I couldn't stand it anymore," a drenched Isaac explains.

Stiles supposes that they must've been _really_ distracted if they hadn't noticed the pouring of rain outside.

"Would you like to carry on? I'll go upstairs," Isaac offers.

"We're good, Isaac. You kinda ruined the mood," Derek replies sourly.

"Besides, it's not exactly sexy knowing that you can hear everything," Stiles adds.

"Suit yourselves," Isaac says, shrugging. "You're gonna be the ones with blue balls." And with that, he's striding across the room and disappearing up the staircase. Derek grumbles something under his breath in annoyance, and hugs the pillow closer. He hears Isaac laugh upstairs, so he guesses that it's some kind of insult or threat.

"So," Stiles begins. "Isaac's kind of a boner killer."

"Don't worry. We'll continue this later," Derek promises. "Leave your window unlocked."

"You bet I will," Stiles says with a wink.

Derek smiles affectionately at him, pushes a finger under his chin, and tilts his head up. He leans over and pecks him on the lips, his thumb brushing Stiles' cheek, stroking his face. It's so _domestic_ that Stiles feels his face heating up with a blush and he squirms away. Derek chuckles at him and squeezes his fingers as he stands up.

"I forgot to say, thanks for the bear, Derek," Stiles says jokingly, as he walks toward the door. 

"Are you?"

"What? Thankful? Yeah-"

"No, no. I meant, are you mine?" He pauses. "You know, the bear said 'be mine' so I was just asking if..." Derek falters.

"I get it," Stiles huffs a laugh. "Is that your awkward way of asking if i'm your boyfriend now? Or do you mean it in that creepy possessive way?"

"The first one."

"Then yes. I'm yours." 

Derek's answering smile is blinding.


End file.
